


The Only Exception

by word_processing



Category: The Iliad - Homer, The Song of Achilles - Madeline Miller
Genre: Achilles is an art nerd, And Briseis comes up with all the plans, College AU, M/M, Patroclus crushes hard, sort of, the author knows nothing of tattoos or boxing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-06
Updated: 2015-09-06
Packaged: 2018-04-19 07:59:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4738739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/word_processing/pseuds/word_processing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Patroclus, bless his soul, ran across the street during his lunch break to the tattoo parlor with some stupid idea and some pushing from Briseis. It was the bell that got him, the little jingle when the door opened that make him realize he is really in the building and any second someone is going to look up and see him there. He is ashamed to say that he did something a little boy would do. He ran in, touched the counter and ran out again.</p><p>Briseis was not impressed by this display.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Only Exception

**Author's Note:**

  * For [livvy_luu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/livvy_luu/gifts).



> Prompt: Patroclus is getting a tattoo Achilles is the artist  
> I admit I ran away with it a little but I hope you like it!

It starts….with embarrassment. Embarrassment is the worse emotion one can feel, probably because one feels it all on one’s own and is easily blown out of proportion by one’s mind.

Patroclus, bless his soul, run across the street during his lunch break to the tattoo parlor with a stupid idea, and some pushing from Briseis.

It is the bell that gets him him, the little jingle when the door opens that made him realize  that he really is in the building and any second someone is going to look up and see him there.

He is ashamed to say that he did something only a little boy would do. He ran in, touched the counter and ran out.

Briseis is not impressed by this display.

"You couldn't even walk in the door? Patroclus, come on, that's a little pathetic." She says, not unsympathetic at all.

Patroclus slumps into a big leather chair in the middle of the bookstore across the street from the tattoo parlor. He works at the bookstore and should probably be doing something but Chiron, the owner, is in the back, and Briseis is as bad as he is.

In fact, she is so bad that she leaves Patroclus in his misery only to return with two iced coffees from the coffee bar in the front, and sits down in the chair opposite.

“So what’s the plan?”

“What plan? There is no plan. That is my plan. It failed.”

“That is not your plan, we can come up with a better one.” She pauses, “What do you know about this guy?”

“We went to school together, we were on the boxing team. I graduated before him and as far as I’ve heard he joined the military after he finished.” Patroclus sighs, that stupid little defeated sigh that makes your heart ache.

“And you haven’t seen him since?”

“No, I doubt he even remembers me. I avoid him every morning when he comes in here for coffee.” There’s another pause, full of more self-pity. “I'm screwed, aren’t I?”

“You’re about to be unemployed.” Chiron chimes in from behind them and they both jump, practically scrambling over each other to get back to work.

Chiron is a nice guy. You just didn’t want to piss him off but he didn’t make them pay for the coffee so that’s something.

Two weeks later there is a list on the fridge with twelve detailed gifts, from Achilles’ coffee order to his favorite pastry at the local bakery. No one will admit to it but Briseis seems more pleased with herself than usual and the lady from the dry cleaners around the corner came in that morning to bat her eyelashes at a very uncomfortable Chiron.

Patroclus isn’t one to pass up a good plan, even if it is stupid and sappy and makes him feel a bit like a girl. During lunch he goes to the local deli and picks up Achilles’ normal order, a few minutes before the man usually comes in for it.

Patroclus pretends not to think about all the spying that went into this plan.

He pulls the same routine he did the week before; runs in and drops the sandwich off on the counter, then runs out before the bell finishes chiming.

Briseis is waiting for him when he returns, standing with a book of poetry and smirking. “Good lunch break?" She asks and Patroclus blushes pink.

The next day Achilles’ coffee order is waiting for him outside the tattoo shop when he comes to open. He comes into the bookstore, gives Briseis a bemused smile and tries to explain the situation. He isn’t ungrateful, only confused and wishing to meet the person who bought him the coffee.

Patroclus stands in the epic poetry section and watches over a copy of Gilgamesh as Briseis politely tells Achilles that she doesn’t know who bought it, there had been quite a few people through this morning. It is all a lie and Briseis smirks at Patroclus over her shoulder as Achilles returns to his shop across the street.

He’s going to Hell for this. He just has that feeling.

The next day, balloons are tied to the handle of the tattoo parlor door when Achilles get there in the morning, one orange and two blue. Patroclus watches from the window as Achilles smiles and looks around as if he may catch sight of the person responsible. Patroclus ducks out of sight and when he looks back up Achilles is inside and is turning on the lights.

The balloons bob where Achilles has tied them to the computer at the front desk.

Oh gods, he is wooing Achilles. He is literally courting Achilles. This is happening. This is so stupid. And yet it seems to be working. If he had known this would work in college he would have done it already.

They had taken boxing together and while Patroclus is a year older than Achilles he is in awe of him. He was easily the best athlete of any kind the school had seen in a long time. Achilles never lost a match, never.

Except once. Patroclus is actually a little embarrassed about it because it had been a complete fluke. It isn’t that Patroclus is a poor boxer, he is one of the school’s best, but Achilles is… well he is Achilles.

The moment Achilles had hit the mat the room went silent, they all stared at Patroclus. It isn’t like it is a match that counted, it is merely practice.

Achilles blinked his eyes open, clearly furious and touched the bruise forming on his cheek and eye. Patroclus watched as the boy’s raging gaze is turned to him, convinced he is in for it now. Achilles isn’t the sort of person you beat and got away with it, he is big on the honor thing.

But to Patroclus’ surprise Achilles actually smiled at him, looking at him curiously. “I’ve seen you fight, I should have seen that right hook coming.” He said and took off his gloves. Patroclus did the same and helped the boy up.

“I…” He is at a loss for words and this sophomore just kept smiling at him like it meant something. Like the whole boxing team isn’t standing there and watching them.

He is fairly certain that is the moment when he fell in love. It is a dreadful feeling.

The next year, his senior year, he didn’t do boxing, too busy with classes. He didn’t get to see Achilles again, which resulted in much pinning and internet stalking.

But here he is, working across from Achilles and courting him with coffee and balloons like a Jane Austen character.

Briseis had promised that Achilles really liked balloons though.

The days flew by, the list read something like this:

  * His lunch order is a turkey and swiss sandwich from the deli on Third St. Deliver at 12:28, he leaves for lunch right at 12:30.

  * His coffee order is a medium latte with a double shot of espresso and a triple shot of vanilla. Deliver extra hot at 8:25, he arrives anywhere between 8:30 and 8:40.

  * His favorite colors are blue and orange. In that order. Tie balloons to his door before 8:30, he’ll love it.

  * He frequents the movie theater on Main St, there’s a gift card in the envelope below. Leave it taped to his door before he arrives in the morning. I used your credit card.

  * He drops off his dry cleaning on Tuesdays and picks up on Thursday, it’s all set up for you. Go pick it up for him during lunch.

  * He’s always losing his socks and buying new ones. Here’s a picture of what he likes, drop a few packs off during his lunch break.

  * Mixtape time. Behind this paper is a list of his recent purchases from the music store down the street. You can do this. Drop it off before 8:30.

  * He likes sunflowers. You should get him some from the flower shop, a dozen will do.

  * He buys a new sketch book every month at the art supply story, the lady knows what kind. Go and ask her for one. Leave it on the counter inside. (Yes, you need to get over that fear.)

  * He’s had his eye on a copy of Leaves of Grass, you should get it for him. Drop it off inside again.

  * There’s an art show in town, get tickets. Two tickets for day twelve. Put one in an envelope and tape them to his door, leave a note. ;)

  * Meet him at the show, you can do this. Dress nice. Smile, don’t be weird but be yourself.




The problems with this plan are not lost on Patroclus, in fact they are glaring right at him but all's fair in love and war, right? What may have been more impressive than Briseis orchestrating all of this is how she got everyone to to keep quiet. He is sure Achilles had been asking about it, dry cleaning doesn’t just appear at your door when it’s finished. (He still finds Day 5 to be questionable, but Achilles ends up finding it humorous so he guess it worked the way it is suppose to.)

Things are going extremely well, even as the last day approaches. He should have expected that, he can’t just stay anonymous, what would be the fun in that?

So with this apparently flawless plan Patroclus should have foreseen a problem. He is apprehensive about entering the shop again, like a child reluctant to leave their mother’s side on the first day of school.

The first day goes fine, he drops the sketch book on the counter and is across the street before Achilles even gets to the counter. This emboldens him for the next day. Patroclus is ready, he has the book in hand and he is fairly certain Achilles is with a client and won’t be able to come to the front.

This plan did not include Achilles’ open sketch book on the counter.

It’s the new one, the one Patroclus bought him and it’s already covered in pencil and marker. It makes him smile, because that’s exactly what it’s intended for. There’s a sketch of sunflowers and Patroclus didn’t notice that the vase he bought the other day is still on the counter.

“Can I help you?”

The voice comes out of nowhere and Patroclus looks up, dark green eyes meeting blue and he suddenly feels ill. The pieces begin to fall into place, the book in his hand, the sunflowers, the sketch book. Achilles has his hand on the sketch book and for the first time Patroclus notices the picture, the picture of a boy.

It takes too long for Patroclus to figure out that the boy is him. That it’s him as he is in college, as Achilles would remember him. Patroclus doesn't say anything, he is waiting for something. Something like what he is waiting for when Achilles hit the mat ten years ago.

But it doesn’t come. Just like the first time when it didn’t come and Patroclus realizes that Achilles is smiling, bright like the sun runs through his veins.

“I thought… I thought it might be you or I hoped at least. I saw you in the bookstore, I didn’t think you would remember me.” Achilles admits and smiles again.

Patroclus has to laugh, “You thought I wouldn’t remember you? You do have a way of making an impression, Achilles.”

Achilles looks almost breathless for a moment, like hearing his name from Patroclus’ mouth is something he’d wanted for a long time. It makes Patroclus want to do it again, makes him want Achilles to smile all the time.

“I have missed you.” The blonde says, smiling.

It is worth mentioning what happened in college. That after the incident at practice Achilles and Patroclus were inseparable. If one is there the other is not far behind. It is somewhere between sweet and disgusting because even with their constant texting and emailing they never admitted to anything.

That is, until the end of the year. There is an end of the term party on the lawn of some frat house, the boxing team went of course. They went everywhere as a group, the Myrmidons.

Achilles is half drunk already and hung off Patroclus like he is a jungle gym. Patroclus didn’t seem to notice and looked at him like he is the reason the Earth went round the Sun. They danced and drank and every time Patroclus suggested they leave Achilles would whine and beg to stay just a little bit longer.

Patroclus couldn’t deny him anything.

When they finally called it a night Patroclus practically had to pick Achilles up to get him back to his dorm room. He is warm and sleepy, murmuring to himself. Patroclus unlocked his door for him and helped Achilles to the bed.

“No, I think you’re done for the night. You have to pack your room in the morning.” He reminded and laughed when Achilles wouldn’t let him go.

Achilles whined, “Stay, Patroclus. ’S cold.” He whispered, half asleep already and eyes falling closed. Patroclus had intended to leave but he couldn’t, not with Achilles in his arms like this. He laid him down and helped him out of his shoes, laying down beside him.

He had thought Achilles is asleep but he rolled over, blue eyes open and clear. Patroclus’ breath left him before Achilles even kissed him but it felt like the air is being drawn out of room. Patroclus had no choice but to succumb to it and succumb to the kiss.

It only lasted a few seconds and then Achilles is sound asleep again. Patroclus found that charming.

He is still adamant about the fact that the kiss had nothing to do with his decision to drop boxing the next year. Which is true, he simply couldn’t keep up both schools and his double major. It also meant that somehow he lost track of Achilles.

Achilles who is here now and is still staring at him with that smile. “I… I’m not really sure what to say. How are you? I mean, we should go out for coffee or something.”

Something about that makes Patroclus twitch and take the two tickets he had purchased this morning out of his pocket. “Actually, now that you mention it, I is going to give these to you tomorrow. For the art show at the gallery. If you still want one.” He offers, holding one out to Achilles. “I is going to meet you and that’s how…this is going to go down. It’s how this is suppose to happen.”

Patroclus is just a little peeved that it didn’t happen like that, it would have made things easier. But Achilles takes one, smile almost blinding now. “On day twelve?” He asks, chuckling. “Who thought this plan up must think they are clever.” Achilles is teasing and all Patroclus can do is smile dumbly.

“Yes, I believe she is.” He says, smiling. He looks at his watch. “I have to get back to work. I’ll see you at the art show?”

Achilles nods, “Yeah. And we can do drinks afterwards.” He licks his lips like he wants to say something else as Patroclus backs out of the store. “It is good to see you.” Is all he manages.

Patroclus is sitting on his bed while Briseis rifles through his closet. “God, do you even own a sport coat?” She asks, looking over her shoulder.

Patroclus wishes he hadn’t called her in a moment of panic. “I do. There should be a navy blue one hanging in the back there.”

Briseis forages a little more before finding it and holding it up in the light. “This will do.” She says and hands it over. “Come on, we don’t have much time. Do you have your ticket?” Patroclus nods, “And you know where you’re going for drinks?” Another nod. “Good, okay. Call me when you get home. Hopefully not till morning.” Briseis winks and smacks his ass as he grabs his keys. “You’ll do fine.”

Somehow those words of encouragement don’t last him until he gets to the gallery. He slumps in his seat, looking at the brightly lit gallery against the fading summer light. He doesn’t have a chance to wallow because Achilles knocks on his window, making Patroclus jump. The blond is smiling like it will power the whole street.

God he’s so beautiful.

“Hey, I thought that might be you. They have wonderful champagne inside. And this fancy sushi stuff.” If Patroclus had been anyone else he would have thought that Achilles is oblivious to Patroclus’ nerves and his own. But Patroclus would know this boy in death and he could see the way Achilles rubs the back of his neck. It makes him smile.

“I’m coming.” He says and steps out of his car, letting Achilles lead him into the gallery.

For the next two hours Achilles speaks about each of the paintings, describing color and texture and depth. Patroclus only hears half of it. He’s too busy staring at Achilles over his glass of champagne.

They are finally ushered out at eight o’clock when the gallery closes and Achilles takes Patroclus’ hand as they walk to the bar down the street.

“So what have you been doing all these years? What has it been? Ten years? God, I feel old now.” Achilles asks over a pint of dark beer.

“Well, I work in the bookstore across from your shop.”

“Yeah, I’m in there almost every morning for coffee.”

“I’ve noticed.”

Achilles chuckles, “Did you say in college you were going to write? How is that going?”

Patroclus opened and closed his mouth, “It’s… Well, I wouldn’t saying it’s going really well.”

“Really? I remember when you would read me things. You’re so good.”

Patroclus has to smile, poking him in the side. “What about you? I thought you were going to be in every gallery in the city by now.”

“Yes well, I took a little detour. Well, a five year detour. I’m sure you heard from someone that I joined the military, it is my mother’s idea. Not to say that I didn’t like it, because I did, I enjoyed it. Nice to be back on peaceful ground though.”

They are quiet for a moment, drinking their beers when Achilles says, with some level of mischief. “I’ll make you a deal. If you start writing again I’ll start really painting and drawing again. We’ll see where we are in a year.”

That statement is full of so much promise that Patroclus has to agree. It meant that they would still be doing this in one year. It meant that he would get to look at Achilles for another year.

“Patroclus? Do you want to get out of here?” Achilles asks and he knows exactly what he’s asking. He knows exactly what he’s going to get.

“Come with me.” Patroclus replies, trying not to think how no one has ever said his name quite like Achilles has. He pays the tab and takes Achilles back to his car, helping him in. He would like to kiss Achilles right there but now isn’t a good time, he has to wait. He’s waited ten years, what’s ten minutes.

Apparently ten minutes is a long time because the moment Patroclus has the door to his apartment closed and locked, Achilles is on him. Lips soft and wet as his hands pulled at Patroclus’ sport coat. “Off off off.” He insists, pulling at every piece of cloth like they are burning him.

Patroclus is happy to comply. He pulls off his own clothes as he leads them to the bedroom, tossing Achilles down on the bed and clawing over him for a kiss.

“I want you to fuck me.” Achilles whispers, “And then I want to flip you over and work you open with my tongue.”

Patroclus only kisses him harder and presses his clothed erection again Achilles’ ass before grabbing for the lube in his nightstand with one hand and undoing Achilles’ jeans with the other.

Achilles is entirely unhelpful, kissing him like a drowning man and tugging at Patroclus’ hair. He groans as one slick finger presses into him, spreading his legs wider. “Fuck you’re so beautiful. You’re gorgeous. I could fuck you all night.” Patroclus whispers, pressing a second finger into him and soaking in the sounds of Achilles’ moan.

At some point he can’t take it anymore, Achilles is squirming under him and he's tight, almost as tight as Patroclus' jeans feel right now. He removes his fingers and wiggles out of his jeans, capturing Achilles in another kiss so he doesn’t fuss while Patroclus slicks himself up.

“Gorgeous thing.” He whispers as he presses into Achilles, who apparently isn’t interested in adjusting, just starts moving his hips, letting out gorgeous, breathy moans with every thrust.

They don’t last very long but Patroclus knows that this isn’t the last time, it isn’t even the last time for the night. Achilles has his powerful thighs wrapped around Patroclus’ hips, nails digging into his back and mouth open in a perfect circle.

Achilles comes first, moaning Patroclus’ name into his shoulder as he bites down. Patroclus follows quickly after, pulling out and rolling onto the bed. He catches his breath as Achilles rolls over to press against Patroclus’ side. “I love you.” He mutters.

Patroclus should have been surprised but instead he kisses him. That’s all the answer Achilles needs and takes no time to manhandle Patroclus onto his hands and knees, spreading his ass with a smirk. “You’re going to want to grab that pillow.”

They sleep for a few hours after that when Patroclus wakes up Achilles is watching him. He smiles, pulling him into a kiss. “Hey you.” He hums, “Did you sleep okay?”

Achilles nods and runs his fingers through Patroclus’ curls. “I did. I do have a question though, about how all this started.”

“Well I believe it started when I beat you in a boxing match.”

“Haha, you know what I mean.” Achilles is smiling though.

“Well, I saw you enough and heard your name when you came in for coffee that I figured out it is you. I couldn’t believe my luck. Which is then followed by dread. A few weeks ago I came into your shop, even made it inside but then ran out again.” Patroclus blushes and Achilles smiles.

“Why did you come in?”

“To talk to you of course. And because I is thinking of a tattoo. And I’m not just saying that.”

Achilles smiles, nuzzling Patroclus’ shoulder. “Do you know what you would want?”

“No, I is hoping you would have some ideas.”

Achilles is quiet for a moment before hopping up and reaching for some sweat pants. “I have an idea. Do you trust me? Can I do it here?”

Patroclus is a little blown away but Achilles’ sudden energy so he just nods.

“I won’t do anything you wouldn’t like.” He adds, tossing Patroclus his jeans, “Kitchen table, please.”

Patroclus does as he’s told and watches Achilles set up, as quiet as he can be. Achilles draws it first, words that he doesn’t understand and then taking Patroclus’ arm, cleaning the inside of his forearm. “Is this one okay?”

Patroclus nods, more fascinated with the process than the fact that he is about to have a permanent mark on his body. But it hurts and every time Patroclus hisses Achilles pulls the needle away and apologizes.

“I’m almost done, I promise.” He says gently and he is done very soon.

“What does it mean?” Patroclus asks, looking up at Achilles.

“Φίλτατος. It’s Greek for ‘Beloved’.” Achilles is smiling, it makes Patroclus blush a little. He goes to say something but Achilles puts his finger to Patroclus’ lips. “Shh, just tell me if you like it or not.”

“I love it,” he says, smiling at the script. “It’s perfect. Thank you.”

Achilles kisses him, “Now we match.” He holds out his arm and in the same place on Achilles’ arm it says ‘άριστος αχαιών,’ “Best of the Greeks.” Achilles explains and that makes Patroclus laugh.

“Well does the Best of the Greeks like french toast?” He inquires, standing to pull Achilles against him for a kiss.

It takes three months for them to fall into a routine and by a year they are living together. It is early in the morning and Patroclus is sitting in bed with his glasses on in deep thought, as his pen taps the pad of paper in his lap.

Achilles sits on the window sill, not so secretly sketching Patroclus in the light of early sunrise.

“Do you love me?” Achilles asks.

“Of course I love you.”

“Swear it.”

“I love you.”

“Good.”

Patroclus takes his glasses off and puts his writing aside, “Come here.” He says, getting out of bed to pick Achilles up and lay him out on the sheets.

Achilles doesn’t even complain that his drawing is smudged.

****  
  



End file.
